


Seat of the State

by HanginWithLilJ (FlyDizzeeD)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Ryan, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Humor, Kinda, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Role Reversal, minecraft kings au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 08:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17597801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyDizzeeD/pseuds/HanginWithLilJ
Summary: This is Ryan, Jeremy reminds himself. Sure, he's the king. But he's Ryan. He's been balls deep in the dorky royal more times than he can count. No big deal.The way his cock leaks in his pants and his head gets foggy suggests this might actually be a big deal.





	Seat of the State

A gold crest rail slopes down symmetrically to sharp corners. Back posts of the same metal frame a broad splat upholstered in black velvet, matching the cushioned drop-in seat that lays between and below the curved arms, sturdy gold posts connecting back to the seat rail. The seat rail's gleaming front, adorned along the bottom with long grey tassels, has been engraved. Curving lines swirl in gold grooves throughout, teasing and guiding the eye to the thick, sturdy cabriole legs that support the throne. The strong bend leads down in a swooping inwards arc to beautifully sculpted claw-and-ball feet, the deadly talons of the Ender Dragon meticulously recreated to perch on top of dark Ender pearls and support the throne, which sits at the end of a long hall made of obsidian and decorated sparingly with dark reds and blues.

And the man leaning over the back of that throne has a broken crown, a crooked grin, and all eyes on Jeremy.

“Chairs work better when you sit in them.”

“Guards work better when they're in the watchtower.”

Jeremy laughs, the sound echoing through the throne room as he picks up the pace, speed-walking to the royal. He stops just in front of the few low steps that connect to the platform and raise the throne just above the rest of the area. Ryan is draped over the throne now, arms crossed atop the crest rail and head laying on them. Jeremy wants to comment on how it squishes his cheek and takes away from the whole ruler-of-a-country thing, but he bites his tongue.

“Any reason you've abandoned your post, Captain Dooley of the Long Guard? I must be in some mortal danger.” Ryan says, lazy grin at odds with his formal tone.

“I would say so. There's been an attack, you see. An invasion.”

“Oh? And of what army?”

He shakes his head.

“No army, your majesty. A single soldier, it seems. We believe he intends to infiltrate the throne room.”

Humming, Ryan stands up straight. He steps out from behind the throne and leans against its side, the sturdy seat easily taking the weight. His gaze drags across Jeremy, top to bottom then up again, pausing to make brief eye contact before he sighs and looks to a tapestry on the far wall instead. Jeremy doesn't waver under the look. Doesn't even blink. 

“Well, that is concerning. I'm standing in the throne room at this very moment, as it turns out. What action would you suggest we take, Captain Dooley?”

He makes a show of it, of being the good officer he is. One hand drags through the non-regulation facial hair he's had for months while the other toys with one of the buckles of his dark blue gambeson. Eventually, he clicks his tongue, sighs, and shakes his head, looking at the blood red rug beneath his feet.

“Unfortunately, your majesty, I believe it's too late. The rogue villain has already infiltrated the throne room. You're as good as dead now, my lord. It's been an honor to serve on your guard.”

Ryan frowns, but nods in understanding.

“Let us pray the End treats me well. I believe I shall look upon my kingdom once more before the fiend spills my blood and stains the velvet of the throne. It's a shame, really. We just had it reupholstered.”

With that, he makes his way to the window a few feet to the left of the throne. His steps are unhurried, posture regal but relaxed, all the picture of a confident ruler set to gaze upon the sprawling kingdom below. And that he does. First he looks to the watchtower that Jeremy is supposed to be in, next the courtyard garden of deep red roses, and finally the city beyond the gates. Streets of cobblestone, now lit by lamps and torches as the moon takes her place in the sky. There's still people about, milling around the alleys and shambling along in horse-drawn carts filled with goods, heading home for the night. From his place far above it all, he can see to the very edge of his kingdom. Acres upon acres of vital crops and farms lay beyond the sturdy walls.

He pretends not to hear the nearly silent footsteps coming up behind him and braces himself.

The brick wall of human hitting his back makes him stumble a bit, one hand holding the ledge in front of the window, other arm hooking under one of the legs tightly wrapped around his waist. He huffs out a harsh breath of air and spins, taking a step back so the body clinging to his own is slammed into the wall.

“A rogue!” He yells. “An assassin! Here to kill--”

His dramatics are cut off and broken into a long whine by the teeth suddenly biting hard into his neck. A shiver slides down his spine as the mouth doesn't move away, sucking and biting with purpose. He grunts and reaches behind himself to pry the attacking mouth away.

“What's wrong, your majesty? Not ready for the End yet?” Jeremy whispers into his ear, smirk audible in his words.

There's another flash of movement then. Jeremy unwraps one leg from Ryan's waist and kicks at the spot behind his knee. The joint buckles and the added weight makes recovery too difficult, sending the both of them to the ground. They land on their sides, but Jeremy scrambles on top of Ryan and grabs his wrists, pinning them above the king's head and putting his weight into it to keep them there.

“You little--”

“Oh, come on Ryan, you know I'm not little.”

Ryan growls at him, glaring from below, his dirty blond hair now a crownless mess. He thrashes about, his hard-soled boot connecting with Jeremy's leg and bringing him down. The change leaves them entirely pressed against one another. Theres a pause. A few seconds where the only sound in the room is the harsh breathing between the two of them, further heating the already hot air they're sharing.

When the tension breaks, it's because the ever impatient captain kisses his king, making both of them moan into the exchange. It's open-mouthed and dirty, no intent on appearing skilled when the only thing they care about is tasting one another, feeling one another. Ryan is the one to turn their close proximity into something more useful, canting his hips up against Jeremy's. And while the man is known to carry a wide variety of knives, Jeremy's pretty sure the hardness against his thigh isn't a blade.

He meets the older man halfway, grinding down to get some friction for his one hard cock. There's too much clothing between the two of them, but he's not arsed enough to do anything about it, content to lick into Ryan's eager mouth and nip at his bottom lip, catching it in his teeth and giving the shortest tug before he returns to their kiss. He can feel Ryan's hands move to his hips, holding tight while they move together. Faster and harder, Ryan keening below him, seemingly desperate for the feeling, set on rutting into Jeremy with a hungry ferocity. A particular thrust, stuttered and punctuated with a little gasp, makes Jeremy grab the other man's hip, grounding himself in the tight grip.

By the time he realizes his mistake, he's in the air.

Yelping, Jeremy thrashes about. Ryan used the lapse in the hold on his wrists to get the upper hand, flipping them over, getting to his feet, and scooping the other up bridal style before either could blink.

“Put me down!”

“Hm. Just a second ago you didn't mind being off the ground. Probably because you could shove your hard-on into my back.” Ryan says, smirking at him. He sets Jeremy down, though.

Well, sits him down, anyway.

Jeremy runs his hands along the gold arms of the throne, forgetting about the other man for a second, busy studying the posh seat of the state. The soft cushions are welcoming, a sharp contrast to the cold touch of the metal composing the rest of the throne. He shivers at the feeling. Then he shivers at something else.

Two hands, one on either of his thighs. He looks down to see the king kneeling in front of him and his mind reels. This is Ryan, he reminds himself. Sure, he's the king. But he's Ryan. He's been balls deep in the dorky royal more times than he can count. No big deal.

The way his cock leaks in his pants and his head gets foggy suggests this might actually be a big deal.

Ryan spreads Jeremy's legs and leans forward, face inches away from his clothed dick. His brain is going to explode. The leader of his country, a man who countless others fear and admire, is on his knees while Jeremy sits in his throne. A rush of arousal courses through him, doubling down on the too-good way he already feels. He reaches down and runs fingers through those soft locks, teasing at the strands at the nape of Ryan's neck before his grip tightens, moving up to cup the back to the king's head and push. Ryan's eyes are locked on his as he easily gives way to the pressure, his face being shoved into Jeremy's crotch. Jeremy breaths raggedly and rolls his hips, the bulge of his hard cock rubbing across Ryan's mouth and bumping his nose.

“Go on.” He says, all mock confidence and blinding lust. “Suck me off. Don't act dumb when I know you've got plenty of experience.”

And Ryan swallows the lump in his throat, ignoring the way his voice shakes when he speaks, the situation not lost on him.

“Yes, sir.”

He has to take a breath to center himself, his breath ghosting over Jeremy's dick as he unlaces the man's trousers with somewhat more confident hands. As soon as he has access he reaches in, pulls Jeremy's dick out, and shoves the head in his mouth.

“Fuck. Yes, Ryan, c'mon, swallow my cock.”

His heart is beating a mile a minute, pulse thrumming through his body as Ryan's skilled tongue flattens over the tip and licks partway down the length. The grip he has on the king's hair is white-knuckled, but he works hard to control himself and not just shove his cock down the man's throat and fuck his face.

Quite the temptation, though.

Ryan wraps a hand around what isn't in his mouth, working the shaft as much as he can, fist jerking and head bobbing. He pulls off and adjust his hold so he can lick along the underside from base to tip, dragging the younger man's dick across his cheek in the process. Jeremy gasps and whines, hips twitching, desperate for more, desperate for action. His favorite part of fucking has always been just that: the actual fucking. It takes a lot for him to hold still, but he'd rather not wreck Ryan's throat without permission.

That goddamn mouth wraps tight around his cock again, Ryan's cheeks hollowing out as he sucks. He moves down, shifting a bit so the angle is easier. His lips drag wet along the length as he slowly moves forward. As more of Jeremy slides down his throat, he moans at the different feelings the situation gives him, his own neglected cock twitching. There's not much thinking to be done here. Please Jeremy. Be good. Get a reward. Easy. The simplicity, the praise, the commands all sink into his skin and melt his brain, leaving him as not much more than a very satisfied pile of goo. Every day of his life is spent telling people what to do and being burdened by birth with inconceivable responsibility. This- a cock down his throat and a firm hand pulling his hair- pulls him away from it all. Jeremy will take care of him. He always does.

“Good boy, Ryan. Such a good little king, on his knees and sucking off someone else in his very own throne. Very, very good.”

Ryan moans again at all the praise, at the circumstances, at how full he is. His noise goes straight to Jeremy's cock, making the man grunt and thrust forward slightly. That movement pushes the rest of his cock down Ryan's throat. Ryan chokes, but doesn't pull away, instead swallowing a few times around the hard dick, throat tightening in pulses around it. His crooked nose is pressed into Jeremy's crotch, eyes squeezed shut as he sucks and swallows, tongue barely able to move with the fat cock taking up so much space.

“Shit. Fuck. That's so good, Ryan, so good. Such a good boy. My good boy. My Ryan, yeah, fuck, I'm gonna cum. Do you--”

His question is cut off by Ryan abruptly pulling off of his cock, the warm wetness leaving him all at once. Then there's a hand replacing it, wrapping around his spit soaked dick and jerking him off. Ryan's eyes are open now, some tears staining his cheeks from the deepthroating, baby blue gaze locked on him and mouth open as he jerks Jeremy off over his face. The image is enough to finish him off and forever ingrain the moment in his memory.

He cums, streaks of white painting Ryan's face. Some lands in his mouth, but most of it is on his cheeks and across his nose, a few globs on his forehead. Jeremy's pretty sure it's in his hair, too, and fuck, it's beautiful. He's so utterly blissed out, pure pleasure crashing through him and replacing everything else. It takes him a minute or so of dazed panting before he blinks down at Ryan, who hasn't moved.

The older man has a far away look. Ah. Jeremy bends over in the throne enough to hook his hands in Ryan's armpits and pull him up and onto his lap. Ryan whines and flops forward, and Jeremy winces at the chance there's probably cum on his gambeson now, but he brushes the thought aside to deal with later. Priorities.

Current priority being the way Ryan is now humping him, clothed dick frantically rutting against his stomach. He gets a hand between the two of them and down Ryan's trousers. The second his calloused hand wraps around the older man's throbbing cock, Ryan whimpers and finishes, thrusting into the new pressure, cumming in what are probably ridiculously expensive trousers.

“Good boy, Rye. You did great. Are you okay?”

The muffled “mhmm” and tired nod against his shoulder are enough for him. He chuckles and gently cards his fingers through Ryan's hair, just playing with it.

“We need to go clean up, pal. You're real sticky.” He jokes, pressing a kiss to Ryan's temple. All he gets in response is a groan and the king attempting to shove into his shoulder more.

“Fine. Ten minutes of gross sticky cuddling. But then you're taking like five baths.”

There's something else mumbles into his shoulder, but he can't quite make it out. He says as much, so Ryan pulls away just enough for his absolutely wrecked voice to be understood.

“Said I love you.”

Jeremy grins. Kisses him again, then three more times, all over his head.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
